Slave to Mistress Meryl Ch. 01

As we stood at the top of the staircase, we exchanged knowing glances. I'm sure that the exact same thoughts were running through both our minds at that moment. We'd always imagined that our private space would be a basement -- that's where dungeons are, right? But here in front of us was a perfect space. Carefully, for the floor did not appear to be in very good shape, I paced out the dimensions. The area where I could walk upright was fifty feet long, the entire length of the house and thirty feet wide. Lots of room! At the peak of the gable, the room height was about fifteen feet. Every twelve feet along the room an old thick beam was positioned to support the roof about ten feet above the floor.

Outside, the barn proved to be just what we had hoped, and the other outbuildings, close to the house were well built and substantial. A short exploration of the land, some eighty acres, revealed a number of overgrown grassy glades, more streams, and several rugged areas where the shield outcropped as much as forty feet above the surrounding land.

We didn't need time to think. We wrote up the offer before we left, close enough to the owner's asking price that our agent felt we would not be turned down. In actual fact, the asking price for the property was ridiculously low, but we all agreed as we wrote up the offer that it was one of those properties that the purchaser had to be able to envisage what it could become for it to be attractive. For many people, the decrepit state of the buildings and the overgrown fields and garden would be just dispiriting. By our calculations, if we could get the house close to our bid price, we would still have substantial capital to renovate to our tastes.

Meryl and I couldn't wait to get back in the car. Our brains were over-flowing with ideas for the place, mostly the same. During the drive home, the ideas came fast and furiously. The loft would become the inner sanctum. We both wanted a revolving bookcase to disguise the entrance to the stairs. No one but us would know the space even existed. Would we put windows in? Windows would inevitably cause people to ask questions and want to inspect. No, there would have to be just a couple of discreet skylights in the roof. Yes, we would renovate the guest bedrooms on the second floor, but only to be used on special occasions. The larger would become a study for the two of us to work in together. Even better than a wing, we would convert the largest outbuilding to a guesthouse, something that we felt the boys would prefer anyway.

To take a break from the building project, we took a break in late October and headed to Europe. Our aims were to relax, have some fun and eat some good meals, but more importantly, we wanted to learn and shop. We wanted to meet and talk to women, and possibly men who lived the bondage lifestyle and were more experienced than ourselves. We were learning fast, but we wanted to hear first hand from others, more experienced, about pleasure and pain. We also wanted to shop for the furniture for our new playroom, which we knew we could best find in England and Germany.

We accomplished our mission well. We ate well and drank good wines at some great restaurants in England and France. For almost the entire trip, I was in bondage in one way or another. We found places where Meryl could walk me on my leash, and we stayed at a number of old houses and chateaus where the beams and beds provided great opportunities for restraint and whippings. Once again, Meryl whipped me every single day of the trip.

Our shopping was a brilliant success. From a well known English supplier, we purchased a huge round leather covered bondage wheel and our leather rack, as well as a cage. We suspected that we would receive some funny looks from the customs people when they arrived home, but they would be worth it. We found our beautifully carved black wooden Saint Andrews cross in Germany, and during a quick side-trip to Italy we found the perfect black leather sofa.

What proved to be our most interesting purchase was found during our four day stay in Tangiers, where we had gone to learn, not to buy. We had taken a trip to the souk, the street market and were looking in a small antique furniture store when we both saw the chair. We just had to have it. High-backed, made of a dark wood, almost black, it was very old, and from the incredibly arcane and obscene carvings on it, had obviously been made for some ritualistic purposes. Carved into the wood were all manner of torture instruments - whips, chains, and evil-looking instruments. There were also several hooded figures. But the ultimate embellishments were the handles and uprights carved into the distinctive shape of long, thick penises. Meryl sat in it, and she looked amazingly powerful. She even said that it made her feel very dark and menacing somehow.

The real reason for the trip to Tangier had been to learn more about dominance and submission. From our readings we knew that any and all sexual perversions could be found in Tangier, so we were determined to see what we could find. We were not disappointed, as we had been on a couple of occasions in France and Holland, where the clubs had proved to be very tame. We could have taught them a thing or two, we felt. By the end of our first day in Tangiers we had learned of two clubs that specialized in sadomasochism and we visited both that same evening.

We chose well. Both clubs were good and with me on my leash and Meryl in her red leather dress, we fit in perfectly with the crowd. The first club was interesting. There were powerful men and submissive women on stage for the most part, although one act featured a striking dominatrix punishing a good looking blond young man very severely. She pulled no punches when she twisted his nipples, whipped him and tortured his cock. We stayed for a couple of hours, quite excited by what we had seen. However, the second club turned out to be exactly what we had been looking for.

First, in this club, there appeared to be absolutely nothing that was taboo. Within half an hour of entering, we had seen a beautiful young man hooded, whipped and dildo raped on all fours by two tall, blonde Nordic goddesses, and a slim, yet busty redhead who was whipped by a powerful black negro and then fucked one after the other by him and another black god, as Meryl described him.

Part way through our visit, the owner of the club, Benjamin, a good looking black North African introduced himself to us, and while he and I were friendly, he and Meryl immediately established a strong rapport. I could tell that he really enjoyed this elegant, articulate North American woman, and we arranged to have lunch with him the following day.

Lunch in his garden was delightful, and Benjamin not only proved to be a good host, but also a storehouse of knowledge on sadomasochism, having practiced the art himself for some considerable time, although I was glad to see that there were a few things that we knew that he was relatively ignorant of, particularly on the psychological aspects of keeping a slave. Benjamin's specialty was the physical side of the subject. We learned a lot from him, and over the next few days, as we visited the club again, we met and talked with several of his star performers, particularly the two Nordic dominas, who, we discovered, were actually very British, and also very dominant in their real lives.

Perhaps the most important lesson we learned in Tangier though was the only limits are what you set for yourselves, and so long as these are consensual, they can be very extreme. Indeed, during our second lunch together, on the last day of our visit, we heard that Benjamin had taken part in sex and bondage scenes that either involved snuff or were as close to it as made no difference.

As he described them to us, it was clear that he totally enjoyed the experience of taking truly submissive men and women to, or beyond, their limits of pain and depravity. His stories reinforced the idea that there are indeed people for whom extreme sexual arousal and intense pain go together, both giving and receiving. We also learned that our explorations of bondage and submission were still relatively mild compared to what was truly possible when both players wanted it.

Meryl discovered something else in Tangiers, although she didn't share it with Rod until much later. Until then, she had spent very little time in her life in the company of black men, and so Rod's fantasy world of dominant black males really meant very little to her. But spending time over three days in close proximity to Benjamin made her think very differently. Meryl thought that he was probably the most impressive male she had ever been close to.

As well as being powerfully built, he was articulate, intelligent and incredibly, deferentially courteous to his guests. Yet here was a man who described how he had experienced snuff at first hand. Had he really? Meryl's own interest in serial killers was piqued by these conversations. As she later said to me, "Were we actually taking lunch with a serial killer?" She was obviously intrigued.

More importantly, there was an immediate attraction between the two of them, although nothing physically came of it at that time. Meryl knew that Benjamin found her very attractive from the way he behaved around her, and she in her turn was impressed by his build and his lustrous black skin, which she found every excuse she could to touch. She found herself wondering several times if he had a large black cock like the ones she had seen in porn movies. If so, what would it feel like to be fucked by him?

During their second lunch together, Meryl became painfully aware that she wanted to be fucked by him. It was a painful realization because she knew that if Benjamin asked her to fuck, she would forget Rod, forget everything and give herself to him. She had never felt anything like this before, and it scared her somewhat. What was happening to her?

However, Benjamin didn't ask, and nothing physically came of this attraction at that time, but from then on, whenever she and Rod fantasized about black cocks, it was Benjamin who she pictured in her mind, and it was she who over the next couple of years kept encouraging Rod to keep in touch with him. And, yes, she had put quite a bit of passion into a goodbye kiss for this delightful man, full on the lips, which he had reciprocated, but which Rod had not appeared to notice.

Snuff was a word that Meryl and I had never used together before, but on our last night back at the hotel, we played with the word as part of our lovemaking. First, Meryl asked me if I was aroused by whole notion of a snuff movie, and I had to admit that, intellectually I was, but that it would have to be very sexy. Then she asked, "Would you like to star in one, or at least a simulated one? Is that part of the ultimate submission, Rod?" Once again, I had to acknowledge that the thought had crossed my mind, but only as fantasy, "I love my life with you too much to want it to end, even that way, although if I had to go, it would be one heck of an exit."

We moved in to the new property on a warm sunny day in April the following year. The builders, who for reasons of our own privacy we had hired from out of town, were just putting the finishing touches to the guest house, but the house itself was ready for the two of us. We had been waiting expectantly for this day for several months. The name we had chosen for the house was already on the gate -- The Domain it read simply. That first evening, we had a wonderful candle-lit dinner and plenty of champagne, but we had both agreed that we would not venture beyond the shelf door in our bedroom to our private space until we had completed the arrangement of the living space. So it was four days before we had completed hanging pictures and re-arranging furniture before we both agreed that it was time to visit the inner sanctum.

In the loft, the builders had been forced to work around a dozen large packing cases that we had delivered early on during the renovations because of their size. We actually had to temporarily increase the size of the stair opening from our bedroom for them to pass through. "Furniture," we explained whenever one of the workmen asked. We carried champagne with us into the loft that first time, and drank a toast to future pleasure and pain as we surveyed Meryl's future private domain.

The builders had done an excellent job. Two skylights now let in plenty of light, although there had been a few curious stares as we asked for the iron gratings to be fixed in place over them. "Security," we said, although we both agreed that along with the naked stone walls and the exposed wooden beams, this touch really made the place feel like a dungeon. We had asked the builders to install several supporting timbers under the wooden beams, using the excuse that we felt that extra support might be useful, but in reality, the combination was to prove to be an extremely effective suspension frame, especially after I spent a Saturday afternoon installing some small, strong electric winches and several sets of pulleys in strategic locations.

We had debated long and hard about whether to carpet the floor -- nice for bare feet, a good sound insulator -- but in the end we had decided that we wanted as much authenticity as possible, so we found a large, thin slate tile that could easily be mistaken for flagstones. Under-floor heating and several Persian rugs made this an ideal solution. At the far end of the room was the new fireplace that we'd had installed, and just so that we would be self-contained, we had installed a small bathroom, complete with a claw foot tub, half way along the back wall. Besides the skylights, illumination could be provided by lights recessed into the ceiling, but more often we intended to use candles, mounted on holders set in all four walls. And we knew that the hot wax would come in very useful!

That first evening we opened and assembled four of the cases. First were the bookshelves. By now we had assembled a very extensive collection of fetish and pornographic books and videos that we enjoyed reading and re-reading together.

Next came the black leather couch that we had ordered from Italy -- large and deep and very soft - perfect for curling up together in front of the fire with a good book.

Third came Meryl's personal chair. We spent quite some time after we opened the case examining the detailed work on this piece. We had not seen it since we purchased it in North Africa during our trip to Tangiers. The dark wood, maybe ebony, almost black, from which it was made was very old, and it had obviously been made for some ritualistic purposes maybe for some ancient cult.

We identified a number of torture instruments we had not noticed when we bought it -- in addition to the whips and chains we had seen then, there were masks and even a rack carved into the back of the chair. There were also a number of figures in both dominant and submissive poses.

But as Meryl sat in the chair for the second time, her hands kept straying to the ultimate embellishments, the handles and uprights carved into the distinctive shape of long, thick penises which she loved to caress. We wondered who had sat in chair before. Had it been men, or had there been women who had enjoyed the pleasure as well?

The next night, we took some time to unpack and erect the Catherine wheel. This required quite an amount of assembly, and also it had to be mounted on the wall. However, with considerable effort from both of us it was finally in place and complete, and imposing sight that dominated the room. Finally, we unpacked and erected the St. Andrews cross that I would no doubt be spending a lot of time attached to from now on.

After we had finished putting the room together, Meryl made me kneel between her legs, and lick her cunt for while. I knew that she was enjoying my ministrations as her head fell back against the chair, and moved from side to side on the trademark way of hers. After a while though, she pulled sharply on my leash to signal me to look up at her. There was a delicious, cruel twist to her smile as she looked down at me. She had always struck me as being very dominant, but now in her black leather outfit, sitting in this particular chair she seemed to radiate a dark erotic power of fierce intensity.

"There is something about this chair, Rod," she said slowly, "When I sit in it, I can see all kinds of wild images in my mind, people being whipped, flogged, raped and tortured. I have a sense that we stumbled on something very special here."

I noticed that her hands were working over the phalluses at the end of each arm of the chair, as if she were slowly masturbating them. She noticed that I was watching her.

"Mmmmmmm they feel very good, alive almost, but so big and thick. You're better than Dick, but I've never had a cock like these. They are like those monster cocks that are in our magazines. Such a pity that I don't know what one feels like yet, but maybe if I'm really horny some time I can press one of these into service. I'm sure that it wouldn't be for the first time."

She sat back for a few moments and allowed me to continue worshipping her cunt lips. I thought that she was very close to the edge of orgasm when she once again tugged my head up towards her, and leaned forward to take the chain of my nipple clamps into her hands. She started to tug on them, sending delicious, intense waves of pain stabbing into my chest.

"So here we are. All alone in our domain. And I must say Rod that it is truly wonderful. Two years ago, I might have imagined that places like this could possibly exist, but they would not have been for me. But you have opened many doors for me Rod, in so many ways. And as those doors have opened I have been able to understand myself so much better. It always amazes me that you could see the dom in me straight away, because all the time we worked together I never thought of you as submissive in any way. If I did imagine you in a sexual way, it was always as a romantic and passionate lover, not as my leather clad submissive."

Her grip on the chain continued to tighten, drawing me upwards and closer to her, so that we were almost nose to nose, with only my leather hood in between us.

Tonight everything changes though Rod," she said abruptly.

I recoiled at her words. What had I done? Her tone was so serious, the first thing that flashed through my mind was that I had upset her in some way....but then we wouldn't be here.

She let me dangle for a moment, before she continued: "Yes, tonight everything changes. We are now in my domain, and you are now in my power. From tonight onwards, until the end of your life Rod, you are my slave, and you have no choice in the matter." She placed heavy emphasis each time she uttered the word 'my'.

She continued on, "So, from now on, unless we have company or unless otherwise instructed, whenever you arrive home, you immediately become an anonymous leather slave. I remember telling you when we first went out that I much preferred to see your face when we made love. Well, how things change. Turns out that I actually prefer to have my anonymous leather slave with me most of the time, and leave your face for special occasions. Is that clear?"